Rats!
by blinkblink
Summary: After a while, all the standard solutions get used up. And that's when the Heroes pass the realm of unusual and go straight on to bizarre.


Disclaimer: Don't own Hogan's Heroes or the characters. Except for the piper, I suppose. Hoorah.

* * *

"So, with all the guards out searching for the flyers shot down two days ago, we need someone to come into camp to pick up the photos. Schnitzer is out: the dogs were just changed, and Klink's starting to get suspicious about his frequent visits." Hogan tapped his desk with a pencil, staring at the photo negatives sitting in a neat row in front of him. He and his XO were alone in his office, considering strategy while the rest of the barracks took part in daily cleaning.

"How about a Red Cross inspector?" said Kinch.

"We had one two weeks ago. And they're not exactly thick on the ground," dismissed Hogan.

"Some kind of other inspection? Say by the Luftwaffe?"

"Whoever the agent the Underground is sending is, I doubt he's got access to the necessary uniforms to pull off that kind of act. It's gotta be a civilian."

Kinch folded his arms, frowning. "Well, sir, there aren't a lot of options, really. I mean –"

The sergeant didn't manage to finish his thought; at that moment a commotion broke out in the main barracks. Something heavy slammed, someone yelped, several men broke out in cursing and LeBeau began shrieking in outrage.

"_Des rats! Des rats! Il y a des rats dans mon casier!_"

Hogan and Kinch hurried out in time to see the Frenchman wrestling a broom from a rather shell shocked-looking Carter. Further back, several men had stepped hurriedly towards the walls, although even as Hogan and Kinch stepped out they relaxed away self-consciously. The tunnel entrance was open, Olson glancing at the scene around him before retreating back down the ladder without a word. LeBeau, broom now in hand, glared around and sang out in a false sing-song as he stalked, "_Où êtes-vous, mes petites? Montrez-vous, montrez-vous, où que vous soyez…_" Ahead of him something moved against the ground and he slammed the broom down with a snarl. He missed the rat but caught Newkirk, standing next to his target, a hard rap on the ankle as he manoeuvred.

"Ow! Bloody 'ell, Louis, watch where you're swinging that thing!"

"_Et bien?_ Perhaps if you were a little cleaner, we would not have vermin living with us!"

"Hey, guys?" Carter's hail went unnoticed.

"Oh, I like that, it's my bloody fault, is it? Who's the one who uses the barracks table for cooking, then?"

"I clean up after myself every time! I do not remember you complaining when you ate my meals!"

Carter took a step towards the pair, now standing nearly chest-to-chest and shouting in each other's face. "Guys, I think –"

"Just 'cause me mum raised me to be polite's no reason to let your pride go to your 'ead!"

"Oh, you call it politeness? Because let me tell you, in France we would call it –"

"All right, break it up, break it up!" Hogan, followed by his XO, strode over. Kinch separated the two by the simple expediency of dragging them apart. "What's going on here?"

"Sir, I really think you should –"

"Not now, Carter. LeBeau?"

"The rats are back, _mon colonel_, I found them eating out of my supply locker; they have made a foul mess of my stores, my seasonings, my precious spices! They are probably living in Newkirk's mattress, I have not once seen him beat it since last year, they are probably breeding an entire army of tiny filthy pests in there!" LeBeau pointed to the mattress, sitting innocently on top of the Brit's bunk.

"That's a bleedin' lie, I turned it out last week," began Newkirk, but Hogan glared him into silence.

"Alright, the rats again. I'll talk to Klink about getting some poison. LeBeau, they're not living in Newkirk's mattress; there's no way they could get up and down to the upper bunk without someone seeing them. Newkirk, beat the thing more often anyway. We'll just all have to keep an eye on all sources of food and make sure there's nowhere they can be nesting; check all the lockers and lower mattresses. And if anyone sees them –"

"Sir, that's what I've been trying to tell you. They went down the tunnel, right after LeBeau nailed Newkirk." Carter pointed at the open tunnel; the rest of the barracks swivelled to consider the hole.

"We'll never get them out of there," groaned Kinch, putting a hand to his forehead. "Even if they can't find anywhere to nest they can always make their own burrows in the dirt. Warm, plenty of supplies to eat, wires to chew… Rat heaven."

"Boy, I hope they don't bother Daisy. Do rats like rabbits?" asked Carter, looking concerned.

"Only for dinner," replied Newkirk sourly. Carter turned shocked eyes on him.

Hogan sighed. "Okay. I'll go requisition poison from Klink. LeBeau, leave the mess in the locker, we'll have to show it to him to prove why we need it. Better not offer Schutz anything for a while, we don't want to give them any ideas."

"I have nothing to cook with anyway," said LeBeau. "Besides, they never give us enough poison to kill a man; it is hardly enough to kill a single brood of rats. We will never wipe them out like that."

"Yeah, well, it's better …than…nothing…" Hogan slowed to a stop, looking back down at the tunnels consideringly.

Kinch turned to follow his line of sight "Sir?"

Hogan snapped back to attention, turning to address his second sergeant. "Carter. That trap you built to catch the rabbit alive. Could you make another one for rats? Nothing fancy, no whistles or bells, just the bare minimum? We'd need more than one."

Carter shrugged. "Well sure, sir, but I don't know if it would work for rats. They're supposed to be real cunning."

"Do it, as many as you can. As soon as you finish one, set it down in the tunnels somewhere – make it somewhere dark and quiet, they'll avoid us. Get LeBeau to give you some bait, you can use what's left of his stores."

"Yes, sir," said Carter, still puzzled, and swung himself over the bunk's ledge onto the tunnel ladder, disappearing down into the darkness. LeBeau broke off from the group to begin collecting suitable morsels.

"Kinch. Contact the Underground. Tell them we need the courier to be someone who can play an instrument – something small and light. A flute or pipe would be best, but anything they can play while walking'll do. Tell them to get back to us as soon as possible, and come get me when they do."

"Yes, sir. Sir, are you thinking what I think you are?" Kinch gave his commanding officer a questioning look, half filled with amused scepticism.

"I may be, Kinch. I may be. Get to it. Newkirk, get a saw and come with me."

"Where're we going, sir?"

"To create an infestation."

* * *

The next morning just after dawn roll call, Carter took a trip down to the tunnel and returned to report proudly that they had caught four rats in the night, pride only slightly damped by Newkirk's pointing out that with 12 traps that was only a 33% success rate.

"It's enough," said Hogan. "You know what to do. Whatever you do, make sure you don't let them get away."

The men nodded. "Yes, sir."

* * *

"Colonel Klink, I'd like to talk to you!" Hogan barged into the Kommandant's office, slamming the door behind him. Klink didn't look up.

"Not now, Hogan, the annual budgetary review is next week and the financial reports are still not finished."

"Sir, it's important! The men have discovered rats in the barracks again! Now you promised after the last time that you'd take serious and comprehensive measures to get rid of them, and I want to see 'em! It's unsanitary and degrading to be living with rats, and you know that as soon as the rats move in we start to get fleas, tics and all sorts of other problems. We're high on delousings as it is; I won't stand for any more!" Hogan, speaking loudly and making wide, blustering actions, sidled over to the window and flipped the catch open. Klink didn't look up from his papers.

"Yes, yes, I will have Schultz investigate your claim and issue you some rat poison if he finds sufficient evidence."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hogan saw the window slide open gently.

"That's not good enough, sir! The poison you give us wouldn't kill a mouse, never mind the things we've got; they're the size of dachshunds! We need firm and decisive action! Who knows what those rats are carrying – yellow fever, small pox, German measles…"

"Colonel, rats do not carry yellow fever or small pox, and German measles – which they also do not carry – are harmless."

"Maybe to you Germans, but we've got no resistance; I'd hate to see an epidemic sweep through the camp, sir! And besides, I've got the solution! You don't need to worry about issuing us more poison, or thinking up those comprehensive measures."

Klink scrawled a signature on a document and turned the page. "Uh huh. You will get the poison, or nothing. I do not have time to requisition further supplies. If the rats are still here when the review is complete, I will consider further action at that time." He turned the page.

In the corner of the room, something dark moved against the floor. Hogan turned. "Look, sir! I'd have never believed it if I hadn't seen it! It must be an infestation! Imagine their audacity, infesting the Kommandant's office!"

Klink glanced up wearily. "What are you blathering about, Ho – _mein Gott!_" Klink leapt to his feet, chair flying back. Several more rats promptly scurried away from his desk towards the far corner and their companion. "Rats! Rats, in my office!" Klink's voice was hoarse with shocked horror. And then, regaining his voice, bellowed, "SCHULTZ!"

There was a pounding outside and the door opened to admit the large sergeant, who saluted. "Yes, Herr Kommandant?"

"Schultz, there are rats in my office!" Klink pointed an arm trembling in outrage. The sergeant followed it, and took a step back.

"Y-yes, Herr Kommandant, there are."

"Well don't just stand there, _dummkopf_, do something!"

"Yes, Herr Kommandant." The sergeant paused, face twisting into confusion. "What would you like me to do?"

"Get rid of them! Chase them out!"

Schultz straightened and shifted his grip on his rifle preparatory to taking action he had clearly not yet decided on.

"Sir, if I may, you don't want to do that. Best to keep them trapped in here. If you let them out, they'll just get away and then come back later, and you'll have lost your chance to get rid of them." Hogan stepped over and closed the door carefully behind Schultz.

"Suddenly you're an expert?" sneered Klink.

"No, sir, but I was talking to one of the guards and he said he met this guy down in the town, a rat catcher. With a pipe, and everything! And he said half the problem was that people chase the rats out and then call him, so he only gets the rats hanging around close enough to hear the pipe. Then, when he leaves, the others come back from where they'd been hiding and the town's no better off than it was before."

"Uh huh, uh huh." Klink nodded, and then stopped abruptly and turned to glare at the colonel. "Colonel Hogan, you are not seriously telling me you believed the man's story? That is just an old German fairy tale, the Pied Piper of Hamelin. It isn't real."

"With respect, sir, I think it is. This guy gets results! He's cleaned out whole towns with just a single tune. And if the rats don't go, he doesn't charge a fee; very reasonable. Especially with you in your current financial snare."

Klink tapped his foot. "It is ludicrous. There is no way a man can lure rats away with a… a tune!"

"It wouldn't hurt to try, though, would it sir? Because otherwise you're going to have to use the poison, and you can take it from me you're not going to get far that way. Or you could always requisition something stronger if you don't mind adding it to the expenses."

Klink flinched. "No, no. Very well, we will try this piper. Where is he staying?"

"I heard you can reach him at the Hauserhoff. Just ask for The Piper."

Klink gave him an unimpressed look. But he picked up the phone.

* * *

The Piper, when he arrived, was a serious-looking middle-aged man wearing a worn trench coat over a faded suit. His only concession to the theatrical nature of his profession was a green felt hat with a large pheasant tail-feather in it. He was holding a long, thin leather case in his hand.

Klink met him on the porch of the Kommandantur, in one of his suspicious moods. Hogan stood beside him, while the rest of the men loitered in the compound.

"Ah, Herr Piper," said Klink dryly, glancing at the man's hat and then his leather case, the only notable points about him. "We have a small problem."

"So I heard. You have rats in more than one place?"

"Yes," agreed Klink sourly. "Both in my office, and one of the prisoner's barracks. Would you like to see?"

The Piper didn't even look around, just began opening his case with the air of a man who didn't want to be there. "No, no, that is not necessary. The rats have very good ears. They could hear me anywhere in this camp."

"I see," said Klink. Hogan elbowed him and raised his eyebrows in a _see?_ expression. Klink rolled his eyes. "And what will your fee be?"

"What? Oh, 40 marks," said The Piper, apparently naming a random figure. When that seemed insufficient, he added rather insincerely, "I do it enjoyment, not money."

From the leather case he pulled an ordinary-looking recorder and fit it together, handing the case to Klink. Without any ceremony he put the end to his lips and began to play.

The tune was Lili Marlene.

Klink waited, with barely concealed impatience, until the last note of the recorder died away. The men in the compound broke out in spontaneous applause. Klink crossed his arms. "Very nice. But where are the rats?" He looked around pointedly; although there were plenty of POWs spread throughout the free space within the wire, there wasn't a single rodent in sight.

The Piper looked at Klink as if the man had said something incredibly stupid. "They're gone. They leave as soon as they hear the first note. There isn't a single rat left in the camp at this very moment."

"Oh? Then what about the rats trapped in my office? I locked both doors to make sure no one let them out by accident; Hogan said you were very specific about that."

The Piper looked at Hogan, who grinned. "Well why don't we go look, sir?"

"Yes," said Klink, smiling cruelly. "Why don't we go look?"

Klink lead the way into the Kommandantur, through the outer office and to his own. He produced the key, and opened it carefully as if expecting the rats to charge out. When they didn't, he stepped inside, followed by Hogan and The Piper, Hogan slipping a thin paper envelope to The Piper, who tucked it up his sleeve.

Inside the office, there was not one single rat.

"But – but, the doors and windows were locked! And we were standing outside, no one could have gotten in! How did they get out?"

The Piper shrugged, unconcerned. "I told you, they just hate it. No crack, no space is too small for them when they truly want to get away."

Klink stared at the empty office, dumfounded. The Piper held out his hand, and cleared his throat.

"What? Oh. Oh, yes." Klink pulled out his wallet, and peeled out 40 marks. "Yes, well done, very good," he said, still amazed. The Piper tucked the money away, turned, and left. "I just can't believe it. Can you?"

"You'd be surprised at all the things I can believe in around here, sir," said Hogan, saluting, and left.

* * *

Back in the barracks, the men were indulging in celebratory coffee.

"Just make sure you block up the holes between his quarters and the office properly," said Hogan, taking his cup.

"What about the rats, sir? Can we leave 'em there?" Newkirk juggled one of the raw-edged wooden triangles between his fingers.

"Tempting, but no. Better chase 'em out. If they leave camp, so much the better. If not, we've got Carter's traps."

"What about the ones in the tunnels?" asked Carter. "Are we still catching them?"

Newkirk glanced at him. "What, you wanted to keep 'em in case we need another piper?"

"Nah, but I thought, maybe just one or two around the place would keep Daisy company, since the colonel won't let me catch a friend for her. I don't think they'd eat her," he added in an aside.

Hogan rolled his eyes. "No, Carter. No rats."

"But –"

"If you catch a fish, I'll let you keep that."

"Yes, sir."

END

Translations:

_Des rats! Des rats! Il y a des rats dans mon casier!_ – Rats! Rats! There are rats in my locker!

_Où êtes-vous, mes petites? Montrez-vous, montrez-vous, où que vous soyez…_ - Where are you, little ones? Come out, come out, wherever you are…


End file.
